


Parlez-vous français?

by Ivegotaheartandivegotasoul



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Harry's a TA, M/M, and Niall is his student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 20:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10045304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivegotaheartandivegotasoul/pseuds/Ivegotaheartandivegotasoul
Summary: Another Tumblr drabble!Check me out on tumblr at ivegotaheartandivegotasoul! Happy to take prompts and stuff!





	

Niall hates French. Well…he doesn’t hate it per say. He still thinks it’s a beautiful language and all; it’s just that he’s not very good at it. No matter how much time he spends making flash cards or staring at verb conjugations, he just can’t make anything stick.

The only reason he hasn’t dropped the class yet is because of Harry, the grad student who’s been assigned to teach the two sections of Elementary French 1. He’d shown up to the very first day of the semester with a beret perched atop his long brown, curly hair, a box of fresh croissants tucked under his arm, and a widewide grin. Niall had liked him immediately. He was energetic despite their class’ early start time and the seeming lack of enthusiasm from his students, always moving quickly and constantly around the classroom in his painted on black skinny jeans. He was also unfailingly patient with Niall, no matter how embarrassingly slow he was at grasping certain concepts. More than once Harry had offered extra help for those who needed it, but Niall’s been too nervous to take him up on the offer yet.

It’s the fourth week of the semester when Harry begins class with a brief announcement about the university’s French club. “I’m in charge of the club this year,” Harry announced, sat on the edge of his desk at the front of the room. “We meet once a week on Thursday nights in this room to watch movies, talk, and eat French food. It’s a lot of fun! This week we will be watching Les Choristes and making crepes, so you all should come and feel free to bring some friends! All are welcome!”

  
The blonde girl next to Niall raises her hand. “If we go do we get extra credit?"

“Peut-être…ou peut-être pas. You’ll just have to go to the meeting and find out, Amanda,” Harry replies, his smile turning slightly mischievous. “Now, let’s talk about la famille!”  
Niall already spends way too much of his time thinking about French class, so he’s not so sure why he finds himself standing outside the door to his classroom on Thursday night instead of out at the bars with Louis or Liam. He takes a deep breath and opens the door.

There are about fifteen other people there. He doesn’t recognize a single one of them from class or from around campus. Harry’s at the front of the room, a griddle and his supplies all set up on his desk. He’s wearing a maroon sweater, the sleeves rolled up to reveal a series of tattoos.

“Niall!” Harry calls out and their eyes meet. Harry’s green eyes are so warm it makes Niall's insides suddenly feel like melted butter. He can’t help the smile that makes its way onto his face. “Come tell me what you want in your crepe!”

Niall can’t look away from Harry’s long bony fingers as he pours some of the batter onto the griddle. He’s always wearing at least two rings on his fingers, never the same ones two days in a row. Harry starts adding in ingredients at Niall’s request. Caramel sauce. Sliced banana. Chocolate chips. When it begins to brown, Harry folds the crepe delicately and with his spatula slides it onto Niall’s plate.

Niall’s not surprised to find that Harry is a good cook. The crepe is warm and soft in his mouth and he finds himself finishing it before Harry’s managed to even start the film.  
The film is about a music teacher who goes to work at a school for troubled youth and ends up forming a chorus. It’s better than Niall thought it would be. The moment it’s over, the room fills with the soft buzz of voices as everyone rises from their seats, pulls their coats on, and begin to quickly disperse, leaving Harry behind to clean up and pack up all his supplies. Niall stays behind to help him, earning two dimples in the process. “Thank you for coming, Niall. You were my only student who did.”

Niall scratches at the side of his neck, feeling his skin grow a bit warm. “S'no problem. Was a good movie.”

Harry’s face lights up at this. “I’m glad you liked it! I think it’s one of my favorite movies of all time.”

“Really?”

Harry nods, wrapping the long chord of the griddle around and around it and tucking it back in the box where it belongs. “Yeah. I’m a big fan of music and I think the music is really good. Also…I’m just a sucker for a good old fashioned redemption narratives.”

Niall snorts and watches Harry struggle to juggle six plastic bags full of supplies, the griddle, and his own satchel in his two hands for a few seconds before he reaches forward and takes the griddle into his hands. “I’ll help you carry this.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I promise my car’s parked close by.”

They take the elevator down to the first floor of the old, dusty language building and they step out into the cool February night. Harry leads him two blocks to his red town and country mini van. “What?” Harry asks defensively when he sees Niall’s reaction. “It’s a hand-me-down.”

“Sure,” Niall replies, biting his lip to hide his smile.

Harry opens the side door and dumps all the plastic bags on one of the seats before he takes the griddle from Niall’s hands. “How far away do you live? Do you need a ride?

“I’m alright. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk.”

“Come on, get in. I insist. It’s the least I can do after you helped me out.”

“Fine,” Niall says, walking around the passenger seat and climbing in. The car smells like the evergreen air-freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

Harry turns on the ignition and pulls onto the street. The two sit in silence for a solid minute after he gives Harry directions. Finally, Niall clears his throat and asks, “so, why French?”

Harry laughs and uses his pinky finger to switch on his turn signal and Niall’s not sure why he finds that so cute. “I’m afraid the story’s not all that interesting. I took French in high school and really liked it so I kept taking French classes in college, thinking I might minor in it. I didn’t decide to major in it until my Sophomore year because of this great class I had on French Romanticism. And now four years later I’m here, doing research, working towards a Masters. What about you?”

“What’s my major or why I’m taking French?”

“Either really,” Harry says lightly, sparing Niall a brief glance before looking back at the road.

“Well…I study astronomy and physics.”

“Oh?”

“I guess I like space. Always have. Had these glow-in the dark stars in my room growing up and I always liked to arrange them to form constellations.”

“So I’m guessing French is just a ged ed requirement?”

“Yeah.” Niall pauses. “Look…I’ve been meaning to say this, but I’m sorry I’m so bad at it all. French I mean.”

“Why are you apologizing to me? You have nothing to be sorry for, Niall. Learning a new language is difficult and sometimes French is unnecessarily difficult.”

“But not as difficult as I make it out to be. The other students aren’t having as hard a time as I am.”

“The other students don’t even pay attention to what I’m saying most of the time and they’re not interested in what they’re learning. You listen and you try, and that’s all I care about.” Harry pauses and looks at Niall longer than he should while sitting in the driver’s seat, his expression soft. “And you came tonight which helps validates me a bit as a teacher.”

Niall wants to tell Harry that it’s not the French that makes him pay attention to Harry or why he made the decision to come tonight, but he remains quiet. In the absence of sound Harry turns the radio up and the two nod their heads along to The Eagles. Harry pulls up to Niall’s small, red brick apartment building and shifts into Park. Niall reaches for the door before he can say something stupid, only to be stopped by Harry’s large hand on his shoulder. Niall’s throat feels tight all of a sudden. “And I know I’ve said it before. If you feel overwhelmed or need help, I have office hours. Feel free to come. I usually spend the entire time on my computer watching Netflix. ”

“Alright,” Niall says. “I’ll stop by.”

“Good,” Harry replies, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. “Have a good night, Niall.”

“You too.”

Louis and Liam are sitting in the living room playing Mario Kart when Niall comes in.

“Why are you so red?” Louis asks.

Niall rushes to his room before they can ask him anymore.

 

Niall spends five whole minutes in front of the bathroom mirror, running his fingers through his hair, toying with the individual dark strands, before he calms himself enough to go knock on the door to Harry’s office. “Come in!” Harry yells.

Niall takes a deep breath and pushes open the door. Harry’s sat reclining on his desk chair, his feet propped up on his desk, a laptop haphazardly propped up on his knees. “Morning Niall,” he grins. Unlike usual, his hair’s pulled back into a tight bun and he’s wearing a Green Bay Packers sweatshirt.

“You’re going to break the chair and your back,” Niall says in lieu of a greeting. He sets his backpack down on the ground and makes himself at home in the black, plastic chair in front of him.

“None of that,” Harry replies, his eyebrows furrowed and his lower lip jutted out in his best attempt at a serious expression. “You’re the one that came to me for wisdom and guidance, remember?”

“Which is why I want you to live long enough for you to actually help me.”

“Fair point.” He grabs the laptop and swings his legs down from the desk. “How are you doing today? Your classes all going well?”

“Midterms,” Niall answers solemnly.

Harry nods understandingly. “It’s a rough time for everybody.”

“I’m running on no sleep and two Red Bull’s right now.”

“That’s so unhealthy for you!” Harry scoffs.

“Says the man who has a coffee cup on his desk right now.”

“It’s tea!”

“Yeah sure. Let me be the judge of that,” Niall says, leaning forward to take the cup in his hand.

Harry grabs Niall’s wrist abruptly to stop him. “It’s tea! I swear on my life!”

“You sound a little defensive there. Afraid of being called a hypocrite?” Niall shakes Harry’s grip and grabs the cup. Once again Harry grabs Niall’s wrist and the two struggle to gain control. It’s not until Niall’s got complete control and their laughing subsides, that Niall realizes how close their faces are to one another. Harry’s breath fans across his face, the tip of his nose just brushing Harry’s. He can see the small mole on Harry’s cheek up close and personal, and he wants more than anything to kiss it. He quickly looks down at the cup in his hand and pulls back the lid just the smallest amount to reveal a cup of coffee.

“I knew-”

He’s interrupted by Harry’s mouth pressing hard against his. Niall lets the cup fall to the floor in favor of reaching out and cradling Harry’s face. His lips are warm and wet, and his breath is shaky when he pulls back for a moment, his eyes still closed. He lets Harry kiss him again, this time with slow sweeps of his tongue, leaving the bitter taste of coffee behind in his mouth.

When Harry pulls back a moment later his lips look so plump and pink. His eyes widen. “Shit.”

**Author's Note:**

> Another Tumblr drabble!  
> Check me out on tumblr at ivegotaheartandivegotasoul! Happy to take prompts and stuff!


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